


The Taming of Dragons

by BlessedLunatic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlessedLunatic/pseuds/BlessedLunatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are stories in the stars - legends and tales passed down from generation to generation and depicted in the connections made between the points of light.  Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have perhaps found a connection of their own in the legends.<br/>Or,<br/>In the past, an educational field trip to the forest doesn't go at all as planned for Rumpelstiltskin (...again).  In the present, Belle gets a surprise for her wedding night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taming of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amrei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amrei/gifts).



> Happy Rumbelle Secret Santa day! :)

_The Enchanted Forest_

“Where are we going?” Belle’s voice called out from somewhere behind him, sounding slightly breathless. “We’ve been walking for miles, and it's nearly dark.”

“Complaining, are we?” Rumpelstiltskin turned with a flourish to regard his panting housekeeper. “And to think, just hours ago it was ‘please, please can I go outside? It’s springtime and the sunshine is oh so pretty!’” Voice changing in mockery of her accent, he clasped his hands together dramatically as he spoke, hoping to rile her up a little. Dropping the voice, he sneered. "You didn't expect me to let you flit about unsupervised, did you? You're just starting to become a decent maid, I've no desire to train a new one if you decide to run off."

The look she regarded him with was not the properly chastised one he had expected. Instead it looked for all the world like she was making an extreme effort to hold back an eye roll. Her eyes were calculating, _knowing_ , and he looked away lest his own face tell her anything he didn't intend. “I do _not_ sound like that,” she huffed in protest, “and I had been thinking more along the lines of sitting in the garden…”

“With a book, no doubt,” he interrupted, snorting in amusement at his bookish maid.

“...with a book, yes," she glared at him, but her eyes seemed to hold more amusement than malice, "preferably in the daylight, when I could still enjoy the warmth of the sun. And I _know_ you have the castle enchanted to keep me inside unless I'm with you. I was only asking if you could possibly expand the enchantment to the outer walls so that I could enjoy the garden. Surely part of my duties will be to prune the rose bushes and pull the weeds? The grounds of the castle look terribly neglected." The look she gave him was all feigned innocence, but the glint in her eyes and the mischievous curve of her lips told him otherwise. She was teasing him. Him!

It was entirely disconcerting. 

At some point in the months since he'd stolen her away from her father and her home she had largely stopped fearing him. _Everyone_ feared him, even those who were foolish enough to pretend they didn't. He had power, and that power was to be respected. Belle, on the other hand, seemed to care little about his power, and had an annoying habit of looking at him as though she was trying to figure him out - that she might even, perish the thought, be seeking to _befriend_ the monster. There was a niggling feeling in the back of his head that she was succeeding, and that was reason enough for him to be dragging her through the forest to accompany him on what was sure to be a particularly unpleasant (and hopefully bloody) confrontation with a foolishly desperate woodcutter who had the audacity to break a deal with the Dark One. 

Belle's lack of fearful respect for his terrible power was almost entirely his own fault for letting her see him spare that thieving Hood fellow's life. Then he'd given her a library (a _library_...what had he been thinking?) and that's when her little problem with disrespect had truly begun. Oh, she’d been mouthy once or twice before, but now she was in equal turns mouthy and _sweet_. She had _hugged_ him. Nobody had hugged him in over a century. And now, just weeks after the unfortunate curtain tumbling incident, he was finding that she kept making efforts to sidle up into his personal space and talk to him. He was becoming more and more certain that she must possess a darker magic than his own for her proximity to make his brain go haywire like it did. It couldn't be allowed to continue, and the sooner he could demonstrate his true darkness, the better. Bringing her along to witness an example of what happens to people who cross him should do the trick. He _could_ have magicked them there in an instant, of course, but a rigorous trek through the darkening woods seemed like a good way to drop him even farther out of the good graces she seemed determined to keep him in. Petty, perhaps, but he'd try whatever might work. He had his pride, after all, and his reputation.

"Don't fret, dearie, we're nearly there," he growled, still annoyed by how her mirthful smile had derailed his thoughts so efficiently. "If you behave on this little outing, we'll see about giving you some outdoor tasks, hmm? But not too many. I like the garden the way it is. Too _pretty_ , and it rather disrupts the intended atmosphere of the castle."

"Thank you," she breathed as she lifted her skirts to step over a mud puddle. "You know," she continued, in between breaths, "you could always make the roses black. That way, even properly maintained, they'd still match the castle."

Damn her. She was still teasing. Still being clever. _It had to stop._

"Yes, well, I'll keep that in mind," he muttered, at a loss for how else to reply. 

The pair entered a small clearing and Rumpelstiltskin abruptly halted, snickering to himself when Belle careened into his back with a muffled "oof!" She shot him a look of exasperation as she moved to his side, but, he noted, she didn't move far enough away to make him entirely comfortable. So focused was he on her lack of respect for personal space, that it took him a moment to realize something vitally important.

The clearing was empty.

The clearing in which he was supposed to be confronting his errant deal-breaker.

The small home at the far edge of the clearing sat dark and abandoned. No lights from a fire or lanterns. Door hanging open. 

Empty.

The woodcutter's horse was gone from where it had stood just hours earlier when Rumpelstiltskin had used a mirror to locate the miserable thief. Gone. He was gone. No, no, this wouldn't do at all. Damn it, he'd had a _plan_.

His anger must have been plain on his face, because Belle tilted her head to peer at him oddly. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong, dearie," he spat, "is that the thieving scum I'd come here to eviscerate has decided to up and _leave_. Not only did he break a deal with _me_ , but he thought he could just _run_." The word was hissed through his clenched teeth. "Nobody breaks a deal with Rumpelstiltskin and lives to tell the tale."

"So you've said," Belle replied, calmly. "What did he do? What was the deal?"

"An axe," he snarled. "I gave him an axe. Not just any axe, no, but one with a handle constructed from enchanted wood and crafted by dwarves. With it he'd be able to fell a tree with one swing. It was," he narrowed his eyes in anger, "more than fair trade for his horse."

"His...horse?" Belle blinked.

"A fine animal of good breeding and health. Much too magnificent a creature for the likes of him to own. He was supposed to deliver the horse to me at an agreed upon location by end of day yesterday. He failed to do so. Hence the need to come to him to collect what’s mine.”

"But why did you want a horse? You don't ride." Belle was still confused, and it was almost...adorable. No. No it wasn't. It was irritating. He didn't have to explain himself to anyone, least of all to _her_.

"It wasn't for _me_ , it was for an upcoming deal with a person who would soon find themselves in need of a good horse. It’s only a matter of time before they become desperate enough to call my name, and now I don’t have a horse to deal with.”

Belle narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head, frowning as she eyed him incredulously. “You have whole rooms full of gold. Why don’t you just BUY a horse?”

“Well, where’s the fun in _that_?” he asked, pouting a little for effect. Rumpelstiltskin made deals. He didn’t just _buy_ the things he needed. He needed to be known - needed to be feared, and respected. She’d know little about that though, it would seem. “You don’t propagate a reputation for making deals with desperate souls by simply _buying_ things, dearie.”

“But you could. You could put your wealth to good use,” Belle insisted. “You have this amazing ability to spin straw into gold. You could help so many people, if you’d only…”

“HELP?” he sputtered, a choked laugh escaping as he checked her face for signs of teasing. She was deadly serious this time. “Dearie, you really don’t understand the meaning of 'Dark One' do you?”

“Fine.” She crossed her arms defiantly. “Not ‘help,’ then. ‘Deal’ with. You could make deals with more people if you used your gold. Did it occur to you that instead of already having a horse handy, you could simply give the person enough gold to buy their own horse?”

“Of course it did,” he scoffed, “but the kind of people I deal with are not as logical and sensible as you and I, dearie, nor do they always have the ability to spend gold. When someone needs to escape, they require a horse immediately, and can’t afford to waste the time it would take to walk somewhere to buy one. And,” he grinned and leaned toward her as if to let her in on a secret, “it _does_ rather add a greater sense of excitement and adventure to the whole escape to have a horse just appear in front of you by magic.” His hands mimicked the ‘poof’ of magic as he let out a gleeful giggle. He did love seeing that expression of awe from those he dealt with.

“Do you have to already have the horse, then?” Belle asked, all traces of annoyance gone as she looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Can’t you just use magic to make one appear?”

Oh, but she was infuriatingly curious about everything. He hadn’t anticipated the pretty girl in the pretty dress to end up being a maid with a brain in her skull, or that he’d be under a constant barrage of questions. “I can’t _create_ things with magic,” he explained, “the objects have to already exist. The magic just,” he waved his hands, “moves them around. So yes, I would have to have the horse already in my possession, or some poor soul is going to suddenly find himself seated on the ground with no horse underneath him, and, despite what people say about me, I’m no petty thief.”

She smiled a little at that. Oh no. No no, she mustn’t start thinking him _honorable_ , of all things. He was, of course, in his own way, but the entire point of this little expedition was to show by example how very _not_ good he was. It wouldn’t do for her to continue to harbor suspicion that there was some hidden altruistic agenda behind his actions. 

“But what about the gold?” she asked, nose screwing up adorably in thought. No. Not adorably. 

“What about it?” he replied, lost.

“You make the gold - it doesn’t already exist, does it?”

Infuriatingly curious. “No,” he conceded, “but the straw does. Magic can turn one object into another - change the structure and elemental makeup - but it can’t create things from thin air.”

She nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. “That makes sense.”

“Does it?” he snorted, suddenly feeling peeved by her perceptive intelligence in the midst of his angry disappointment.

“Yes,” she retorted, giving him a sidelong glare.

Before she could add anything to her retort - some long-winded reminder that, after all, she does _read_ , no doubt - he swept his hand toward the empty house in the empty clearing and sighed. “Well this was certainly a disappointing evening. I suppose it’s too dark to deal with the idiot now. I’ll track him down tomorrow. He couldn’t have gone far. And THEN I’ll take great pleasure in ripping the limbs from his body and feeding them to the wolves.” Her face went a little green at that. Good. He moved to leave, but didn’t make it more than a few steps before he heard her quiet gasp behind him. Turning to see what had elicited the sound, he found his curious caretaker gazing up at the night sky, illuminated only by moonlight. “Coming, dearie?” he called.

“Just a minute,” she replied, now sounding breathless in a way that wasn’t from exertion. “Can we just...stay here for a minute? The stars,” she gasped in wonder, “they’re beautiful.”

He looked up, matching her gaze. Yes, he supposed they were rather pretty. Nothing he was about to compose poetry over, but pleasing to look at, yes.

“I’d almost forgotten how beautiful they can be,” she sighed. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen the night sky away from the light of the castle’s fires. Or…” she grimaced, “away from the awful red haze that lit up the sky during the ogre war.”

“Mmm,” he hummed in agreement and understanding. “That’s not a pretty sight to behold. Even less so when you’re on the front lines.”

She sent a glance his way before turning her attention back to the sky. “You were in the war?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “The _first_ one.”

“Oh,” she whispered, and he could practically see her calculating the years in her head.

“I’m old, dearie. Too old, perhaps.” He sighed. What was it about the quiet night and the memory of the war that made him so very tired? He’d been working for so long to find a way to get to Bae. Soon though. It would be soon. He could sense it. A lifetime was what he was willing to wait if it meant getting to see his boy again, and wait it he had. Two lifetimes, by now.

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” Belle’s soft melodic voice floated into his melancholy thoughts. “I have a name.”

“Yes,” he snorted, “I know. But calling you ‘dearie’ seems to irritate you, so I’ll continue to do so.

She huffed in annoyance. “You’re insufferable.”

Well, perhaps this little field trip hadn’t been in vain after all. “Yes I am,” he agreed. “You’d do well to remember it.” On second thought, should he allow her such insubordination? Probably not. “And watch your mouth, maid.”

That earned him another brief sidelong glare, but her joy and wonder at the starry night was apparently unsinkable and her eyes lifted back to the sky.

“Look!” she exclaimed, leaning closer to him to align their gazes to where her finger was pointing. “There’s the great wolf. And the bear,” she jabbed her finger at a different point in the sky, as her other hand wrapped around his arm to guide him as she turned. Too close. She was much too close. He caught a whiff of her hair when she spun them and it blew into his face, and he suddenly found himself having to resist the incomprehensible urge to bury his face in the crook of her neck and breathe her in. The thought had come from nowhere, and it was utterly terrifying. Nothing. She was nothing. She was the help. She spun them again, and he realized she was still talking. “...And the griffin, and,” she all but squealed in delight as she pointed to a new cluster of stars, “there’s my favorite - the terrible dragon and the brave knight who conquered it.”

At that, he snorted. “So they tell it in your land.” He pulled away from her, making a point of waving his arm theatrically in order to dislodge her hand from it. “You might find it interesting to know that in some lands, the dragon is not conquered by a knight, but tamed by a brave female warrior who then rode it into battle and became the heroine of her people. Rather than believing the constellation depicts a knight standing over the slayed dragon, many believe it shows the heroine riding her dragon to victory.”

“Really?” Belle’s eyes lit up. “I like that version much better.”

“Yes,” he replied, “I imagined you would.”

A soft sigh escaped her as she gazed wistfully at the stars. “I’d very much like to visit a land that places value on a woman as more than just a wife and a mother to heirs. A place that would allow a woman to become a warrior.”

“Well, as the story goes, they didn’t exactly _allow_ her, dearie. She acted alone and went against her father’s wishes.” He glanced toward her, knowing she’d see the parallel. “She believed in choosing her own fate.”

Belle ducked her head shyly, but he didn’t miss the smile on her face before she turned away.

“Being a soldier isn’t as glamorous as the stories, though,” he all but snarled as he thought of what little regard he had for the bravery of idiots. “It’s hardly something to aspire to.”

“I’ve always thought it would be terribly frightening to be in battle,” she admitted, “and that the stories of bravery were exaggerated more than a little. But still,” she sighed, “sometimes it would just be nice to know you could have the opportunity.”

He gave a quick nod and a grunt of agreement. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to learn that men and women are not so very different.” Grinning, he added, “something I’ve no doubt women have already known for eons.” He glanced over to see her smiling again. Why did it matter to him that she smiled? “From what I’ve observed, men like to boast about their great deeds and bravery in an effort to impress both women and each other, and, behind closed doors, women like to talk about how utterly ridiculous men are.”

She let out a burst of laughter at that, quickly covering her mouth as she shook silently. She smiled when she had finally recovered. “I have to admit I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

“Yes, well. Remind me to tell you a story sometime about a young boy who was abandoned by his worthless father and raised by two kind spinsters who ran a business and managed just fine without a man.” Oh hell, what had prompted him to say _that_? Now she was looking at him with that insufferable curiosity again, her nose all scrunched up and her eyes narrowed as she studied him. She opened her mouth to no doubt ask a question he wasn’t about to answer, so he interrupted her before she got the chance. “As I said - a story for another day,” he spoke with finality, hand waving as though to shoo the thought right out of her head.

With a nod and a look that told him that she’d drop it for now, but most certainly would not be forgetting to remind him of it later and demand an explanation, she turned her eyes back to the stars. It was then that he noticed she was clutching her cloak so tightly over her chest that her knuckles were turning white. The shudder that went through her a moment later confirmed his suspicion.

“Are you cold, dearie?” It was spring now, but early enough in the season that once the sun went down there was still an uncomfortable chill in the air.

“Yes,” she admitted, “but I’ll be fine. I really want to stay just a few more minutes, please?”

“You’re turning blue,” he scoffed. “You can look at the stars back at the castle where it’s nice and warm. Did I fail to mention that the castle has an observatory?” It didn’t, but it would by the time they returned. He never used the north tower anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to rearrange it a little. At her look of pleased disbelief, he giggled madly. “Oops! Must have slipped my mind. It’ll be very dusty from misuse, I’m sure. You’ll have a lot of work to do.”

He began swirling his hand to conjure up the purple smoke that would transport them back to the castle, when she grabbed his hand. “Wait!” she cried. 

“What _now_?” he snarled in exasperation, trying not to focus on how she hadn’t let go of his hand.

“Can we walk back?” she pleaded, blue eyes gazing up at him with hope. “Despite the cold, it’s so nice being outside, and it’s such a beautiful night. The walk will be nice.”

Nice. He had intended to annoy her with their little trek through the woods, and here she found the whole thing _nice_. There was something not entirely right with her mind, he was sure of it.

“Fine,” he shrugged. “It makes precious little difference to me. But your hands are like ice.” He squeezed her fingers where she still held his hand, reminding her of the tingling pain of frozen digits. Dropping her hand, he quickly removed his cloak. “Here,” he said as he draped it over her shoulders. It was bigger than her own cloak, and she was able to wrap it around her hands and shrug it up around her head, nearly obscuring her entire face from view in a decidedly not adorable way.

“But won’t _you_ be cold?” she protested, voice muffled by layers of fabric.

“Probably,” he replied, nonchalantly, “but _I’m_ not likely to drop dead from it. It’ll take more than a little weather to kill the Dark One.”

She smiled at him - the gentle smile that was always combined with the soft look in her eyes that made him think she must have very poor eyesight indeed to be looking at _him_ that way. He hated that look.

He didn’t really hate that look.

“Thank you,” she said with what sounded like genuine gratitude. So much for his clever plan.

He waved away the thanks. “Just protecting my investment, dearie. Now, let’s go.”

Not far into their walk, she stumbled a bit from being too busy staring at the sky to watch where she was going, and she grabbed his arm to steady herself.

She didn’t let go of it for the rest of the journey back to the castle.

And, he’d discovered, when they had once again stepped through the castle doors, he hadn’t been even the slightest bit cold after all.

Oh, _hell_.

\---------------------------------

_Storybrooke, Maine_

“Where are we going?” Belle whispered to Rumple (her _husband!_ ), giggling as he guided her by the elbow through the forest. She knew it was the forest because the air smelled like pine and she felt twigs snapping under her shoes. And _maybe_ also because she had managed to sneak a glimpse of trees through the blindfold around her eyes before he had noticed and adjusted it. They had gone back to the car after the wedding, but before she had gotten in he’d presented her with the blindfold and an adorably shy smile, claiming that he had a surprise for her for their wedding night (their _wedding night!_ ). They hadn’t driven far before the car had stopped and he’d escorted her out of the passenger’s side and into the woods (she assumed). She suspected he had merely driven in circles and they were back where they started.

“I told you, it’s a secret,” his low voice rumbled in reply, causing her to shiver as his breath tickled her ear in the most delightful way. “Stop trying to peek around your blindfold, darling.” She could hear the smile in his voice as he playfully scolded her.

“I can’t help it!” she protested with a laugh. “You _know_ how I am with secrets and surprises!”

“Ah yes, can’t wait patiently, can you? Always have to figure everything out. Infuriatingly curious, if I recall.”

“Hey!” she smacked at where she assumed his arm was, and found her hand captured by his own before she connected. He chucked softly as he squeezed her hand. “Of course, it was also one of the things that made me fall in love with you.”

Oh. Well. Points earned for that one. She couldn’t help the smile that crept along her face every time he said the word “love” in regard to her. It didn’t matter how many times she heard it, it still caused a flutter in her chest. Her hand was lifted until she felt his warm lips against her skin, so she could only assume he’d noticed the smile. 

The hand that had been guiding her elbow slipped around to wrap around her waist as he slowed them to a stop. “We’re here,” he announced, voice trembling slightly. Nerves? Emotion? A mixture of both? She felt it too. _They were married!_

Without waiting for him to say it was okay to do so, she hurriedly reached up and pushed the blindfold off of her eyes. And gasped. They were in the forest (ha!), standing at the edge of a small clearing. Tiny glittering lights danced around them like fireflies, but she knew it was his magic. And there, in the center of the clearing, illuminated by thousands of specks of light, was a beautiful white tent made of what looked like a delicate gauzy material. The front flaps were tied back to reveal a mattress covered in pillows. It was _gorgeous_.

“Rumple, it’s…it’s _beautiful!_ ” She couldn’t stop staring at the scene he’d created. The fact that he was a hopeless romantic at heart was never very well disguised, but he’d truly outdone himself this time. The smile on his face was shy and sweet, but it was the warm gaze in his eyes as he looked at her that had her heart melting. His eyes were so expressive, and she could never get tired of being on the receiving end of that focused gaze.

“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” he said with a grin as he gently pushed her toward the tent. The tent with the mattress. She looked over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow, causing him to softly laugh and look a little sheepish. “That’s not what I meant.” He motioned toward the entrance. “Go on.”

When she stepped inside, she was so focused on how soft and inviting the pillowy mattress looked that it took her a moment to realize what was odd about the tent. When it hit her, she gasped. 

It was entirely transparent. The roof and walls of the tent disappeared completely once inside, and she found herself looking out at the trees. Her fingers tentatively reached out toward where the tent wall should be, and her eyes widened in wonder when she met resistance from the cloth. It hadn’t actually disappeared then. Rumple stepped in after her and smiled. “Do you like it?”

"I love it!" Belle exclaimed. "How does it work?"

"You've heard of one-way glass? Well, we'll call this one-way fabric. We can see out, but, if anyone should happen by, they won't be able to see inside.”

"Good," she grinned, "Because I have plans for you tonight, Mr. Gold."

His cheeks turned a little pink at that, and she smiled at the sight. Few would be likely to believe that the fearsome Rumpelstiltskin was actually rather shy and reserved when it came to matters of the heart (and bedroom).

"Well," he said. "There's no hurry. You still haven't seen the best part."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

He motioned toward the bed. "Lie down and get comfortable."

With a raise of her eyebrows and a smile playing at her lips, she kicked off her heels and sat down on the mattress. It was just as soft as it looked. Soft and warm and so very comforting. He removed his jacket and tie and settled in next to her, arranging the pillows behind them both so that they were slightly reclined. She snuggled up to his side as his arm automatically came around her shoulders, her head cradled against his shoulder.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Very," she replied as she placed a quick kiss against his neck.

"Good. Now," he raised his hand and pointed toward the roof of the tent, "look up."

As she raised her eyes he snapped his fingers, and all the tiny floating lights went out, leaving them surrounded by total darkness. As her eyes adjusted, she realized what he had wanted her to see. The stars were breathtakingly bright in the darkness of the forest, and she couldn’t help but gasp at the beauty. “Wow!” she breathed, mouth open slightly in awe.

“I found this spot one night while I was walking through the forest." She wondered about the dubious nature of that casual declaration, as ‘walking through the forest in the dark’ was not exactly what one would call a _typical_ pastime, but she decided to let it go. "It’s far enough away from town that the lights don’t affect the view.” He shifted a bit, suddenly seeming nervous. “When I saw how bright the stars are, I immediately thought of you, and of how much you would have enjoyed them.” He sighed softly. “It was before the curse had broken. Before…” his voice shook, and he pulled her a little closer to his side. “Before I knew you were alive.”

“Oh, Rumple.” Her heart broke for him at the pain in his voice. Turning slightly, she reached her free hand up until she could feel his cheek under her palm. He leaned his face into the touch, turning his head to press a kiss to her fingers.

“I missed you so much, Belle. I know I’ve already talked about how much it hurt to think you were gone - to believe that I sent you away to your death - but when I saw these stars I was reminded of that night in the forest back in our land, and of how much of a fool I’d been then. Somehow you always saw the best in me, even at my worst.”

She laughed. “Well, if I recall, you never actually did murder that woodcutter - just magicked his horse right out from under him and into the castle’s stables. So I would hardly call that particular moment your _worst_.”

“Well, I _did_ make you muck out the stables.”

They both chuckled at that, laughter slowly fading as a comfortable silence settled around them. 

“You know,” Belle said in a whisper, not being able to bear breaking the peaceful quiet with her full voice, “the stars are different here. I noticed it when I was...in the hospital.” She hated talking about her time locked in the hospital basement, but she knew he hated it more, so she didn’t bring it up very often. “There was a small window, and I used to stare out of it at night, and I knew that there was either something wrong with the stars, or something wrong with me. I couldn’t make any sense of the shapes - couldn’t find my brave warrior on her tamed dragon.

“She was there,” he whispered gently from beside her. “She just didn’t know it.”

Tears began to brim in her eyes at his words and at the emotion in his voice. “When my memories came back, I looked in the library for a book on the stars. I had to prove to myself that they really are different here. It makes sense - different world, different stars - but I had to see for myself that I wasn’t...that Regina wasn’t right to lock me up. And I found that here...in this land, the dragon is alone. Defeated and thrown to the sky to stay forever - a twisted frozen shell of what it once was.”

He was silent for a long moment, and she wondered what he was thinking. Finally, he spoke. “The dragon no doubt deserved his fate. Without his brave warrior to tame and guide him, he might have done terrible things.”

“Well,” she replied, the word distorted by a sudden yawn, “even dragons deserve second chances.”

At that, he turned to his side so that they lay facing each other, and brought his hand up to gently lift her chin. She could barely see him, illuminated only by starlight as he was, but she could still make out the shine of his eyes - full of moisture and reflecting the stars. “You are a remarkable woman, Belle,” he whispered against her lips before moving forward to capture them with his own. 

The kiss was gentle and sweet - a delicate slow slide of lips against lips. Pulling his lower lip between hers, she gently nipped the satiny flesh, reveling in the sensual feel of wet lips against lips, teeth, and tongue. A half moan, half whimper came from him in response, causing a jolt of arousal to run straight through her at the sound. He was often vocal during lovemaking, and she found that his cries, gasps, moans, and grunts seemed to do almost as much for her pleasure as his touch. Her tongue slid along the inside of his lower lip and further - running over the uneven ridges of his bottom teeth to meet his own tongue, and then it was her turn to whimper at the sensation as he joined her in the exploration of each other’s mouths. It didn’t matter how many times they did this, or how much they had learned about what the other liked - each time still felt just as powerful, just as _magical_ , as the first. Her hands moved to bury her fingers into his silky hair as his own hand journeyed down her side to caress the swell of her hip.

Things were rapidly heating up, so it was incredibly inconvenient timing for her body to choose that exact moment to let out a huge yawn, interrupting and effectively ending the kiss.

She could feel Rumple’s low rumbling chuckle against her chest as he pulled back slightly. “Yes, a remarkable woman,” he whispered, panting a little, “but also an extremely tired one.”

“I’m not _that_ tired,” she insisted, but he was already pulling the fluffy duvet up to cover them. He gently nudged her to turn over until she was facing away from him, then pulled her back against his body and rolled them so that she was lying against his chest, her back to his front, gently nestled between his legs. Sitting up a little, he arranged a few more pillows behind his back until they were comfortably reclined. He was positioning them so that they could both still see the stars, she realized. 

“If you want to go to sleep right now,” he whispered, breath warm against her neck, “just say so, and we will. But,” he began as he lightly ran the tips of his fingers up her arm, causing the hairs to raise at the tickling caress, “if you can stay awake a little while longer, I’d like to...touch you. Like this, under the stars. To give you a pleasurable end to the evening before we fall asleep.”

“Mmm” she sighed, her body more than on board with his plan, though it seemed to lack one key element. “But what about you?” she asked as she slid her hand up his thigh with intent.

He captured her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss before settling it back against her stomach. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. Let me do this for you.”

“But it’s our wedding night!” she protested. “I want you to enjoy it too.”

“Believe me, I will,” he insisted as he brushed his lips against her neck, causing a pleasurable shiver to run through her. “And it will be our wedding night all night,” he whispered against her skin, each word punctuated by an open-mouthed kiss to her nape. “It’s been a long and eventful evening, and we’re both tired. Let me give you this, then we can rest for a while. And when we wake up,” she felt him smile against her neck, “I’ll be at your mercy.”

“Mmm, I’m going to hold you to that,” she replied as she snuggled back into his chest.

He just gave a little chuckle in response as he began lightly caressing up and down her arms, then down her sides, hips, and thighs, and back up to her arms again. He repeated the motions several times, then moved to more intimate territory - caressing down her thighs and then moving his hands to run along the inside of her legs and up over her stomach, breasts, and neck. His touch was soothing and soft - touch meant to relax rather than ignite - and she felt her body began to pleasantly float into total sensation as his gentle hands eased away any tension in her muscles and replaced it with pleasure. 

Belle lost track of how many times he repeated the soothing motions before she realized he had stopped at her chest and was working on undoing the buttons of her blouse. The appreciative look in his eyes when he had caught sight of the thin lacey material of the blouse during their wedding ceremony had not gone unnoticed by her. It was the reason she’d chosen it. It was daring, it was sexy, it was maybe just a little inappropriate for the occasion. And she knew he’d lose his train of thought when he saw it. But, as much as he seemed to like the blouse, he now seemed to prefer her without it. Buttons undone, he pushed the material aside and slid his hands over her lace-covered breasts, thumbs moving to caress her nipples through the material, and ooooh but this was one of her favorite parts of their lovemaking. Her nipples had always been extremely sensitive, and she’d confessed during one of their first nights together that she sometimes didn’t think she could have an orgasm without receiving some attention there. He had been the first man to touch her so intimately, but she had not been naive to her body’s functions or to the pleasures that could be found by one’s own hands. Virginal she may have been, but she had always scoffed at the idea that a woman should be ignorant of her own body under some perceived notion of ‘innocence.’ She had been worried about how she would explain to Rumple that she was familiar with her own sexuality and of how he would react, but Rumpelstiltskin, it turned out, had been immensely relieved by the knowledge. He confessed that he’d not been anyone’s lover in over a century, and that he feared he had never been altogether skilled at it to begin with (boy was _that_ an unfounded fear, she had quickly discovered). He gratefully and gleefully accepted her gentle guidance on how to bring her to pleasure, and he in turn had found it easier to open up to her about his own desires and needs. 

Rumple nudged her forward slightly in order to get his hands behind her back and unclasp her bra. As the material fell away she could feel her nipples tighten in response to the chill in the night air, but he had anticipated the cold and quickly pulled the duvet up to cover her chest. Their combined body heat under the warm blanket rapidly warmed her, and soon she was feeling nice and toasty. His hands returned to her breasts, causing her to sigh in pleasure at the feeling of his warm palms against her naked flesh. Slowly, the fingertips of both his hands began to circle her breasts in synchronization - starting at the outside and swirling in smaller and smaller circles toward the center. Right when he was about to reach her nipples, he began widening his circles again, moving away from where she craved his touch the most. A whimper of protest escaped her, and he kissed her shoulder. 

“Shhh, darling. Relax. Don’t rush the destination, just enjoy the journey.”

Easy for _him_ to say. He wasn’t the one being teased with touches that set her skin ablaze despite being slow and indirect. The anticipation might kill her, at this rate. He’d be a widower not even one day into their marriage.

When his fingers once again reached the outer edges of her breasts, he lifted them away from her skin. Before she had a chance to wonder what he had planned next, his fingers had returned, directly to her nipples this time, in an unexpected and sudden caress that sent a jolt of pleasure straight to her core and a shaky gasp past her lips. The previous lack of direct contact had caused the swollen buds to become hyper-receptive to his touch now, and she could feel the gush of wetness between her legs as he gently rolled and plucked at the hardened peaks. It felt incredible - better than she could ever remember it feeling before, and she felt, for a brief moment, that she’d be content if he never stopped touching her like he was right now. 

But of course he had other plans, and after several minutes of such intense stimulation of her breasts, her core was throbbing with need and she wanted nothing more than for him to move on. His left hand remained on her left breast, continuing to gently toy with the nipple as his right hand slowly slid down her chest and stomach to rest at the apex of her thighs. Her short skirt was pulled tight across her thighs, not allowing him much access, but that didn’t stop him from dancing his fingers along the fabric above where she was most sensitive. She moaned with the need to feel him, and, with another kiss to her shoulder, he moved to comply, reaching down to push up underneath the material. His left hand left her breast momentarily to help ease down her stockings and underwear from beneath her skirt, and she found that her legs really were still capable of movement after all as she kicked the garments the rest of the way off.

No longer inhibited by any clothing barriers, his left hand returned to her breast as the fingers of his right hand gently slid up her inner thigh and toward her center, finding her wet and more than ready for his touch. She moaned at the initial contact, marveling again at how good it felt when she was both relaxed and overly sensitized from his previous attentions.  
His fingers moved slowly - agonizingly, wonderfully slowly - over the slick folds of her flesh. He slid his index finger down and up one side of the sensitive ridge of her clit, then down and up the other. He repeated the motion again and again, occasionally moving to slowly circle the entire ridge of engorged flesh, or to dip down and draw up more wetness from where it pooled at her entrance. He sometimes started out this way when they made love - these slow soft touches acting as delicious foreplay before he would either increase his speed and push her over the edge, or slide himself into her and join her in mutual pleasure. But this time he was keeping up the maddeningly slow caress, soothing her with relaxing touches rather than direct speed and pressure. Instead of a steady uphill climb to completion, he was leading her on a slow meandering stroll to her peak.

She began to feel her legs tense up as her body recognized that the end of the journey was near, and his movements instantly slowed to almost a stop. “Relax, sweetheart,” he gently urged her. “Try not to tense up. Don’t go searching for the end - let it come to you instead.” She relaxed against him once again, body slack with exhaustion and pleasure. Already so much pleasure, and she hadn’t come at all. She idly wondered, as his finger once again began the agonizingly slow pace around her clit, if he had touched himself like this - if this was him sharing with her something that he himself enjoyed when he wanted to relax - these slow, indirect, teasing touches, intent on drawing out and prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible until the inevitable conclusion couldn’t be held back any longer.

It was the mental image of him sprawled naked on their bed - legs spread as he gently stroked and caressed his hardened flesh, his face contorted in pleasure as his climax slowly took him - that caused her to finally slide over the edge with a soft gasp. Because she had made no effort to seek it out, her orgasm was not the intense, focused burst of relief that she had come to know so well. Instead it was a whole body experience that overtook her slowly - beginning with a tingling at her core and spreading outward to her chest, arms, and legs. Her head felt like it was floating, and it felt _wonderful_. Rumple’s finger stopped its ministrations and pressed firmly against her instead, just the way she knew he knew she liked. She found continued movement immediately after coming to be uncomfortable and almost painful, but she craved the pressure of a steady touch to draw out each wonderful little aftershock of pleasure. A few more rhythmic presses against the sensitive bud, and he had her falling over the edge again. He gave her a moment to recover, and then repeated the touch to send her soaring one final time.

“That was…” she took a shaky breath as she came back down to herself. “That was incredible!”

“Yes,” he smiled against her shoulder as the fingers of his left hand still idly skimmed across her erect nipple. “It was.”

She turned her head, craning her neck to press her lips against his in a sudden rush of intense emotion. “I love you,” she whispered to him softly. “Thank you - for everything. Tonight was...magical.” The last word came out in a yawn, which she quickly stifled, but he laughed anyway.

“Indeed,” he replied, and returned a quick kiss to her lips. “I love you too, my darling Belle. Now,” he began as he turned them sideways and spooned up behind her, “get some sleep. We’ll continue this conversation when we’re rested.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked with concern. She could feel the hardness of his erection against her lower back, and wondered how he would be able to sleep while being so obviously aroused.

“I’m fine, dear,” he insisted, and she heard the yawn in his voice. “I’m exhausted as well. Doubt I’d be able to keep it up much longer anyway...uh...in a manner of speaking.”

She giggled that the great wordsmith Rumpelstiltskin had found himself in an unintentional double entendre (he really must be tired), but even as she laughed she could feel the hardness against her back begin to fade, and knew he hadn’t been lying to ease her mind. “Well, hold that thought,” she said with a wicked grin, “because when we wake up I intend to reciprocate most thoroughly.”

“Mmm, I look forward to it,” he replied, and softly kissed her shoulder. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Rumple,” she yawned and snuggled up against him. 

Before she drifted off to sleep, warm and content in the arms of her new husband, Belle looked up at the starry sky one last time, and, as she blinked drowsily, she could almost swear there were new stars that she’d not noticed before. Smiling softly to herself, she fell asleep wondering if perhaps her brave warrior had found her dragon in this world after all.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> For janiquebeingcreative on Tumblr, who prompted "secret, dark, warm, and stars." I had such a wonderful time with this prompt - I only hope you enjoy reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it! A very merry Rumbelle Secret Santa day to you!
> 
> The wedding night was written in Belle's POV for a variety of reasons, one being that I wanted to keep the blissful happiness of the moment intact without the knowledge of his dagger deception tainting the evening. Who knows what's going on in his head during it all? Angst with a side of self-disgust, I'm sure. I chose not to go down that path. Tsk, Rumple.
> 
> This was also mostly written before the mid-season finale, but I think the Enchanted Forest flashback still fits in the canon timeline...somewhere. Let's say this happened before he gave her outdoor laundry duties. :)
> 
> Also, this was my first attempt at a more mature rating. Be gentle with me. :P


End file.
